“What’s your point, Keziah?”
“The king trusts you, and he’s been willing to allow you to remain free in the wake of your confession. But the dukes are not likely to be so generous. Javan in particular will want to know why Kearney grants these liberties to the woman responsible for his son’s suffering.”
She should have expected it. They thought her a traitor, she had admitted being party to an assassination. Cresenne supposed that she should have been grateful for the freedom she had enjoyed until now. Yet she couldn’t help feeling that they had betrayed her. Keziah called herself Cresenne’s friend. Kearney had promised that she had nothing to fear from him. And now they wished to lock her away, so as to avoid offending a handful of dukes.
“You must understand,” the minister continued. “With Aindreas threatening rebellion, the king can’t take for granted the support of any duke. Thorald and Curgh, the major houses, are especially important. If Galdasten-”
“So he wants me in the dungeon?”
“No!” Keziah sounded horrified. “He wouldn’t do that!”
“Then what?”
“The prison tower. With the days growing warmer, it should be quite comfortable, and of course Bryntelle will remain with you. The dukes will be here for some time, but when they finally leave, you’ll be free to leave the tower.”
It was more than she should have expected, but still she trembled at the thought of being locked away. Was this how she would spend the rest of her life? A prisoner in the king’s castle? They wouldn’t execute her. She felt fairly certain of that. But they couldn’t let her go free. Ever. Bryntelle would grow up with iron bars on her windows and guards at her doors. Or she would grow up in the home of another, knowing that the world considered her mother a traitor and murderer.
“What if I refuse?”
Keziah halted and faced her, her expression bleak. “Don’t.”
Cresenne took a breath, nodded. “I should return to my quarters, then. I don’t have a lot, but I should probably gather the few things I carried with me from Aneira.”
“Can I help?”
“No.” She couldn’t help but be moved by the stricken look on Keziah’s face. Clearly this conversation had pained the archminister. “I’ll be all right,” she added, trying to smile.
“May I stop by later?”
“Why don’t you walk me to the tower tomorrow? I’d be grateful.”
The minister smiled, her relief palpable. “Of course.”
Cresenne and Bryntelle passed the rest of the day in their chamber. It took Cresenne but a few moments to gather her possessions, but after speaking with the archminister, she had no desire to be seen by anyone else. Solitude promised to be something she would have in abundance for the rest of her days, but privacy was another matter. There were no bars on the door to this room, and though there were guards posted just outside in the corridor, she didn’t have to see them or hear them or endure their stares. For one last day, she savored the basic comforts of the room she was in as she would have the luxuries of being queen.
She slept fitfully and had awakened early this morning, unable to get back to sleep after hearing the peal of the dawn bells. Keziah hadn’t told her what time of day she was to be taken to the tower and Cresenne thought it best to be ready whenever the minister and Kearney’s guards arrived. She sat with Bryntelle asleep in her lap. She had pulled the tapestry away from the chamber’s lone narrow window so that she could watch the sky brighten and listen to the crack of wooden swords and the shouted commands of the king’s swordmaster as he trained the royal army in the ward below.
A knock at the door startled her so that Bryntelle awoke and began to cry.
“Come in!” she called, cradling the girl to her chest.
The door opened, revealing the king. Cresenne stood and bowed as well as she could with the baby in her arms. “Your Majesty.”
“Good morning,” he said, sounding unsure of himself.
“Please come in, Your Majesty.”
He hesitated still, eyeing Bryntelle. “Perhaps I should return another time.”
“There’s no need. She just woke up. She’ll be fine in a moment.”
The king nodded, then entered the room, still looking uneasy. “The archminister spoke with you?”
It seemed there was a hand squeezing her heart. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He had begun to walk a slow circle around the room, but he stopped now and faced her. “I am sorry. I want you to believe that.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” She tried to keep her voice even, but failed.
“You doubt me.” Before she could respond, Kearney shook his head. “I don’t blame you, though it is the truth. I do this because the dukes will expect no less. As it is, I’ll have to answer to those who will wonder why I haven’t had you executed.”
“I’m grateful for your mercy, Your Majesty.”
“And I’m grateful for all you’ve told us. When the dukes leave the City of Kings, as they must eventually, you’ll be free once again.”
“Free to roam the castle, Your Majesty? Or free to leave, to take my child and make a life for myself elsewhere in the Forelands?”
Seeing him struggle with the question, she knew.
“We can offer you a fine life here in the castle, Cresenne. Your child will grow up with the sons and daughters of those who serve me. She will be taught with them, she’ll enjoy all the freedoms and privileges they enjoy.”
“But I’ll remain a prisoner, not in the tower perhaps, but in the castle.”
“Yes.”
“And whenever your dukes journey here, and whenever you welcome nobles from the other kingdoms, I’ll return to the tower.”
“I would think so, yes.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that isn’t freedom.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t suppose it is. Though you’ve helped us a good deal in the past turn, you’re still guilty of crimes against this realm. You made some poor decisions long ago, and now you must live with the consequences of those choices.”
I chose to fight for my people! What else could I have done? She knew she couldn’t say this. She wasn’t even certain she still believed it entirely. And yet she felt that she could barely contain her rage. Not for the first time, she wondered if she had been wrong to turn against the Weaver, even knowing that Kearney and Grinsa would have taken Bryntelle from her.
“There is another way,” he said after a lengthy silence. “I can offer you asylum in Glyndwr, just as I did for Lord Tavis after his escape from Kentigern. You would be confined to the castle there, just as you are here, and there are far fewer children in Glyndwr Castle than there are in the royal palace; your daughter might be lonely at times. But Glyndwr receives few visitors, so you’d spend little or no time in the prison tower there.”
He was offering her exile. He made it sound inviting, at least when compared with the life that awaited her here, but there could be no other name for it. Eibithar’s king was asking her to choose between banishment and imprisonment.
“You don’t have to decide today.”
“How soon would I leave, were I to agree to this?”
“As soon as the dukes have departed. I’d send a sizable group of men with you-you and your daughter would be safe. The snows linger a bit longer in the highlands, but the journey wouldn’t be difficult this time of year.”
She looked down at Bryntelle. At least she wouldn’t have to see her mother in a prison every second turn. “I’ll consider it,” she said.
“Good. Personally, I think it a far better place for you than Audun’s Castle. That doesn’t mean that you’re not welcome to remain here. But I believe Glyndwr would be easier. For both of you.”
And for you as well. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He took a breath, his eyes falling on the baby. “She’s well, I take it.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m glad.” He stood there a moment longer, then crossed to the door. “I’ll leave you. Keziah should be along shortly to take you to. . to where you’ll be staying.”